


Affection

by chronicopheliac



Category: The Exorcist (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Feelings, Fluff, Loneliness, M/M, Mild Angst, Platonic Cuddling, Pre-Slash, Sharing a Bed, between season 1 and 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 15:56:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13907385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chronicopheliac/pseuds/chronicopheliac
Summary: After two months on the road, Tomas is starting to miss his old life. Marcus helps to comfort him.





	Affection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SchnellerTod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SchnellerTod/gifts).



> First attempt at Tomarcus! Please let me know what you think!

It was the fifth hotel they’d been in that week. Or was it sixth? Tomas couldn’t recall. It all started to bleed together weeks ago.

Two months since they left Chicago. They had to keep moving, follow the path set by Bennett when he got in touch. Or wherever a random dart on the map took them when he didn’t. Funny how it could seem like eons and seconds at the same time. When the adrenaline was high, moments flew by. One exorcism blurred into the next; or maybe this was the same one, the same person tormented forever and ever amen.

And then there were nights like this. Quiet and restless. Time seemed to stand still, like a calm before the storm. Wasn’t too far off, actually.

Marcus returned to the car and leaned on the passenger window. He looked tired. Worn thin. “They’ve got a room left.”

“But?”

“Only one. Double bed.”

That didn’t sound comfortable. “Did you ask about cots?”

“No cots.”

Tomas sighed. He supposed they’d been lucky so far, never having shared a bed. It was bound to happen eventually. “Why are they full? It’s not a holiday.”

“Some kind of county bake-off, I’m told. Apparently, we should stick around for Mabel’s cherry pie, in the morning.”

“Hn. Of course.”

“One of us could sleep in the car. Or the tub.”

Also not a comfortable prospect. “I’m sure we can handle one night.”

 

* * *

 

The room was tiny. One of those single rooms meant for transient truckers or traveling salespeople. They piled their things on the single chair in the corner. It made everything seem cramped, taking up visual space. When Tomas sat on the toilet, his knees hit the tub and the counter.

Marcus produced a flask of whiskey from his pocket. He sat on the edge of the bed and handed it to Tomas. “It’s hard to decide if I hate or love nights like this.”

“Compared to the alternative?” Tomas took a swig from the flask, then handed it back.

“Too easy for one’s own demons to crawl to the surface. I’d rather fight the ones I can see. Sort of.”

Tomas huffed a laugh. He couldn’t disagree. “How does one exorcise one’s personal demons?”

“Some would say therapy. I prefer,” Marcus held up the flask, “self-medication.”

“What did you do when you were still a priest?”

Marcus’ smile faltered, and he looked away. “I prayed.”

One more sip of the flask and Tomas rolled to his side to face the wall. “I miss my sister. And my nephew…”

“And Jessica?”

A moment of hesitation. “… Yes.”

“What is it about her you miss?”

Her hands, Tomas didn’t say. Her eyes, her smile. “I could talk to her. About anything.”

“You can talk to me.”

Tomas glanced back, eyebrows raised. “It’s not the same.”

Huffing a laugh, Marcus got under the covers and laid on his back. “It’s better to miss them, knowing they’re alive.”

“But they don’t know if I am.”

“You had a choice, and you made it.”

That he had. Although he would argue that it wasn’t a choice.

He was silent for a long while. Long enough he thought maybe Marcus had fallen asleep. But he heard him sigh, felt the mattress dip as Marcus rolled to his side and turned off his lamp.

“… Affection.”

Marcus didn’t say a word, but Tomas could hear the question in his held breath.

“I miss their affection. My family. Jessica. I–” A hand on his waist splintered his thoughts. He swallowed a lump in his throat.

Hesitant, Marcus shifted closer. When Tomas didn’t protest, he closed the distance, chin on Tomas’ shoulder. “I can do that, too.”

“M-Marcus, we shoul–”

“Shh. Nothing untoward. Just this. You’ll sleep better.”

It was as good as permission. Tomas relaxed in Marcus’ arms. A soft sob escaped his throat, and Marcus held him tighter.

_Just this. Just for a little while._

He fell asleep cocooned by heat, and mingling scents of whiskey and sweat.

_I could get used to this._


End file.
